Sark watched her drop to the deck. His heart dropped as she did. My God, why am I forced to this? He unclenched and clenched his aching fist. But he knew the answer. It was the only way to stop his wife. He carefully lifted her into the arms of one of his men.
"What should we do with her?" The man asked.
Sark thought hard. They would take the boat to the other side where he had a car waiting. But she had escaped last time she was in the car with him. "Tie her up." He paused, waiting for the man's reaction. There was none. "And put her in the boat."
The man did as he was told, as he always did. Sark gazed at Sydney's face, half covered by her brunette hair, then painfully looked away. When was this going stop? When was he going to be her husband again and not her enemy?
"Sir?" The other man was waiting.
Suppressing a sigh, Sark followed the men into the boat and sat near the front, watching the wake from a boat passing by. He sat near the front, so he wouldn't see his wife being tied up. He ran his fingers through his blond hair in frustration. She had never gotten this far. She had never gotten this far. The words rang accusingly in his head. It was his fault she was out, he had practically driven her out. Irina was right. This time he did sigh. As she always was. Cruel as she could be, she was always right.
Now they were on the water, passing under bridges and past boats. Boats filled with laughing people, couples, families. Sark turned away and walked to the back of the boat. Sydney was lying on a couch, still unconscious. All he wanted to do was touch her. But he refrained, fearing to wake her up.
They docked across the river where the car was parked. One man tied up the boat while the other carried Sydney to the car and opened the back door. Sark raised his hand for him to stop before the man sat her down. He then opened the trunk and stepped aside.
"Put her in." The man motioned to do so, moving towards the open trunk, but Sark touched his arm. I can't do this to her. "Wait." He half whispered, distracted by the sight of his wife, so strong, so beautiful, lying defenseless, and Sark realized, abandoned of reason. He had to do it, he had to be her enemy. If it was the only way he could keep her, could keep his son's mother.
Softly kissing her forehead, Sark untied her hands and feet, then curtly nodded to the man, who set her carefully in the trunk, and closed the lid.
ooooooooooo
Sark's men drove him to the back of a vacant warehouse. Sark had done business there years ago. As they drove into the lane, he felt her briefly thrashing through the seat. She's awake.The car stopped to park, and his mind raced. What will she try to do? There were handcuffs in a hidden compartment of the car. He rubbed one hand slowly down the side of his jaw at the thought of using them on her. He didn't want to. But he would.
Sark stepped out of the car and unlocked the trunk. Sydney blinked through the light up at him. There was no recognition in her eyes, only fear. He leaned down to pull her up and she yanked her arm away. His hand came out of nowhere onto her face and her hand shot to her reddened cheek.
One tear fell.
How can it get any worse?
He pulled her out and pinned her an instant before she tried to run free. The two men were out of the car and walking to the building's back door.
Sark realized how tightly he was gripping his wife's arm. He relaxed his hand and turned her to face him. Think Sark, think. How did I talk to her? It was coming back to him, the faux politeness, the smug smiles.
He pasted one on his face. "Shall I escort you or will you be a big girl and go in yourself?" Sydney didn't move so he decided to lose the smile. "You will be the one who determines how hard this is going to be."
That seemed to do the trick. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and stalked away. He sighed inwardly and followed her to where she stood in the open doorway, looking into what he imagined was to her, just another room where she had been interrogated or tortured. But he had to finish what he had started and so he pushed her forward and was surprised that she simply let him lead her to one of the chairs.
He kept the smirk on as he pulled the chair out for her. Sydney sat down roughly. Wait. Too easy. Sark looked at the handcuffs in his hands, gritted his teeth and locked, just one, of her hands to the chair.
Now Sark panicked. What to say? He had no clue as to what she knew or remembered. Bluff. He casually sat across her at the table. "I assume you know why I've brought you here?"
Sydney looked away. Sark leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting for what she would say, but she said nothing. Okay, this is going nowhere. She turned to look again at him as he stood but squeezed her eyes shut as he walked around to her chair, missing the pain etched on his face at her fear of him.
Sark leaned down and choked out. "I'll give you some time to remember." Please remember.
He stood and walked to the door, but paused and looked back. She was staring straight ahead, at where he had been sitting. Sark turned and without another thought, turned off the light, and shut the door behind him.
ooooooooooo
Sark sat in the car. I can't leave her there. So what do I do? His eyes closed as his mind drifted to thoughts of his son, and the time they had spent together before Sydney had begun to slip. Sark remembered his guilty relief in sending him off to summer camp, in what Sark felt was just in time. Suddenly his eyes flew open. He had fallen asleep! He threw the car door open.
"Take the car and park it in the back." He commanded his men. Then he raced to the door, stopping himself just in time to prevent himself from slamming into it. Wait, wait. What to say? She doesn't remember. Think, how to be her enemy. I can't hold her like this. Sark pounded his fist against the wall, then straightened his jacket, opened the door, and turned on the light.
There she was, still beautiful in her torn jeans and dingy shirt, still sitting in the chair, still with one hand cuffed to it. Even with her broken mind, she remained, as she would ever, strong to him. He approached her and unlocked her hand. Sydney rubbed her wrist. Sark smiled at her, foolishly hoping for any sign of recognition, but she looked away. It was then that his pent up anger broke free as he grabbed her face and yelled. "In the name of God, why can't you remember?
Her brown eyes bored into his blue. Stop. Please stop. "Please" the word slipped out.
Tears slid down her face. My God I've made her cry. His fingers brushed her cheek.
"Let me go" His wife demanded through clenched teeth.
I can't. "No." He replied. Sark gently stroked two fingers along her jaw. I've got to keep you here. He opened his mouth, then closed it. No, he wouldn't say that. Fine, let's see where you go. "Is that the way you want it to be?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Very well then, go."
To his surprise, she shook her head. Sark returned to his chair and waited to see if she was explain that, but she looked again at the ground. He leaned his elbows on the table. What is she waiting for? Does she expect me to beat something out of her. As if I would ever hurt her. He chuckled at the thought.
Sydney snapped her head up and caught him still grinning. She frowned darkly at him and he stifled a laugh. Instead he offered the door with a slight motion of his hand. She narrowed her eyes in what he assumed was suspicion. But she did stand and walked to the door.
He sat there in his chair. So how long do I let her go? And where will she go? He waited for the door to shut. As soon as it did, he flipped open his cell phone. "Do you still see her?" He asked one of his men.
"No sir."
"Good, bring the car around." Sark hung up and walked to the door. His men were waiting, like clockwork. He got in the car. "The fountains. That's where she'll be." What's my next move? "Home." He rubbed his temples. "Take me home."
